


One Question

by DaronwyK



Series: What if... HP Drabbles & Short Stories [40]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Imprisonment, Mental Instability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 08:16:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15945380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaronwyK/pseuds/DaronwyK
Summary: Sometimes physical torture isn't the best way to gain information. **One-Shot**





	One Question

o.o.O.o.o

Scratch. Scrape. Hermione worked the sharp edge of the stone against the metal bar she was chained to. It was the only way to track time in this place, assuming she was being given one meal roughly every twenty-four hours. There were no windows, no light to give her a sense of the time of day, just this dark slightly damp cell. The rusted metal bar represented the epicenter of her current existence, and the flaky grey paint was the perfect medium to record the length of her time here.

The reason for her imprisonment was no great mystery to her. She’d been handed off to the Lestrange brothers, once it was clear that Bellatrix’s outright torture was not going to produce results. She’d expected more of the same from Voldemort’s trusted Lieutenants, but instead she’d been brought here and left alone. Her meals simply appeared each day, and the chain was long enough to allow her to reach the toilet, sink, and a basic cot. It stopped about two feet shy of the door and exactly a whole hand width from every other wall.

For the millionth time today, she counted the marks on the bar and came up with the same number. Thirty-eight marks, translating into thirty-eight days give or take. She’d taken to reciting her school texts from memory, just to hear the sound of a voice…even if it was just her own. Hermione had to admit it was a brilliant tactic, depriving her of any human interactions. By the time they decided to speak to her, she might well tell them anything just because she was so desperate for any kind of company. She wrapped her arms around herself, shaking a little. Really would it hurt to tell them what she knew? After more than a month down here, she’d have no idea where Harry was or what he was ultimately planning.

No! She slammed her hand against the unyielding metal of the bar, the pain helping to shock her out of that dangerous line of thought. A sob clawed its way out of her throat as she slammed her hand against the metal again and again, until it she couldn't feel her palm anymore. 

“LET ME OUT OF HERE!” she screamed, tugging frantically on the chain that held her captive. It chafed painfully against her wrist, opening the irritated and scabbed skin. In defeat, she sank down to the floor, curling into a ball.

“Tsk tsk, you’ll hurt yourself. Silly witch.” A voice cut through the silence of the room.

Hermione’s head snapped up, fixing on the open door. Rodolphus Lestrange was walking across the room towards her. He was dressed impeccably in dark grey robes, the dirt from the cell floor seeming to not even touch his clothes. He crouched in front of her, strange hazel eyes fixed on her intently. She fidgeted, knowing she had to look a fright after more than month locked in this room, unable to do more than splash water on her face.

“What do you want from me?”

“Just the answer to a single question,” he said, reaching out a gloved hand and tipping her chin up. “Answer my question and I’ll take you out of this room. You can have a nice hot bath, clean clothes, and sleep in a real bed. You’ll be safe and protected. Do you think you can do that, my dear?” he asked, smooth voice promising everything she craved.

“What is the question?” she asked.

“How did you come to possess the Sword of Gryffindor?” Rodolphus asked, tone even and reasonable.

Hermione frowned instantly. “I already told Bellatrix, I said it a hundred times!” She pulled her face out of his hand.

“I’m asking you to tell me,” he said, looking completely unperturbed by her outburst. “Please, tell me.”

Hermione sighed and looked down at the ground. “I…” She was cut off by his fingers once again tipping her chin up to make her look at him.

“Look at me when you’re speaking to me. It’s only good manners,” he corrected her gently.

“Sorry,” Hermione said and swallowed. “We found it, in the Forest of Dean. We don’t know who placed it there, or when. I swear that’s all I know,” she said quietly. “Harry and Ron found it, I was keeping watch on the camp.”

Rodolphus’ eyes searched hers for a long time and then he nodded, reaching over to the metal bar, and with the wave of a hand it vanished along with the chain and manacle. He stood and offered her a hand. “Come Miss Granger, let’s find you some more appropriate accommodations.” At her incredulous look he merely softened his expression. “I keep my promises, witch. Please, take my hand.”

Hermione reached out hesitantly and slipped her hand into his. He helped her stand and walked her out of the cell. She stepped over the threshold of the room, freezing for a moment until she felt the gentle pressure of his hand on the small of her back. She took a deep breath and moved forward, leaving the room and that metal bar behind her.

~Fin


End file.
